


A Different Story Much the Same

by nadagio



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Cargo Pilot Lance (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 04:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13873548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadagio/pseuds/nadagio
Summary: Second Lieutenant Lance McClain isn't exactly thrilled to be a cargo pilot, but sometimes the job comes with extra perks... Like visiting the Castle of Lions.What should be a simple in and out resupply mission takes an unexpected turn.





	A Different Story Much the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Pulling this from my WIP folder. Here's my take on a Voltron that's a little more pacific rim vibe and a little less power rangers, with a more diverse group of paladins (but still the same characters we know and love.) Enjoy!

Sometimes (not very often, but _sometimes)_ his work as a cargo pilot leads to Lance visiting some really cool places and meeting some really interesting people. Today… today is probably the peak of his career in terms of cool and interesting, so he’s really trying to savor the moment.

Right now, at this very moment, Lance is standing in the _Castle of Lions_ and talking to a genuine _hot alien babe._ Not alien as in from another country, no, but from another _planet!_ She’s another sentient _species!_ It’s the stuff of fantasies!

He might have thought he’d died and gone to heaven except he’s still handling _cargo_ of all things, so... It must be real.

“Are you listening to me?” says the hot alien babe (she neglected to introduce herself before cutting straight to the shop talk).

“I -” Lance hadn’t been listening at all, no. He’s usually a little more professional than this, but… come on! _Cute alien!_ He pastes on a suave smile and leans a little closer to say, “am so sorry, I was distracted by the beauty of your eyes.”

All four of her eyes _are_ very beautiful, but it’s the whole package that has him distracted. The blue skin, the spiked ridges around her ears, the _ears -!_

Four beautiful eyes roll in unison and the mouse sitting on her shoulder makes a cute squeaking noise that might be laughter. Can mice laugh? Well, it’s a space mouse so why the hell not.

“If you would please focus on -”

“Vashi!” a voice calls, and Lance looks across the hangar to watch an orange-haired man approach them at a quick pace.

At first glance he looks human but as he walks closer Lance can see that his ears are pointed like an elf and there are triangular markings on his face that are probably _not_ tattoos. Altean? Like the Princess? But isn’t she the last Altean alive!?

“Coran,” hot alien babe – or rather, Vashi, probably – greets him. “How can I assist you?”

“Allura would like an update on our inventory before her meeting with the Earthlings and she has mere deboshes!” Coran says, loudly and with enthusiasm. “Can you meet her in the entrance hall?”

Vashi squints and looks from Coran to Lance, from the cargo containers stacked in Lance’s ship to the mouse on her shoulder.

“Hello there, Earthling!” Coran says Lance, and Lance gives him a wave. Another alien! An _Altean!_ So cool. If only they hadn't made him sign so many NDAs and thrown around words like "highly classified," Lance would soon be the king of social media.

“Hi!” he chirps back.

Vashi nods and sighs, looking back to Lance with a stern expression.

“Just leave the cargo here and we’ll move it later,” Vashi tells him. “Let the mouse know if you have any problems.”

Said mouse quickly scuttles down her body and across the floor to perch on top of one of the cargo containers. Lance stares at the colorful rodent with some scepticism before turning back to the pretty lady with a question on his lips. But by then she and the mustachioed man are already walking away.

“Um. Okay, sure. Talk to the mouse,” he mutters. “Sounds a bit Disney, but okay.”

For lack of any pretty people to chat up, Lance begins to do his job. But overseeing the robot as it moves cargo from his ship to the hangar isn’t all that strenuous a job, really, so he finds himself talking to the mouse after all.

“So how did you end up with a sweet gig like this?” Lance asks. The mouse looks at him while he talks, and that makes this feel a little less weird about it. “I bet you know someone who knew a guy. That’s usually how these things work, connections.”

The mouse says nothing. Not totally unexpected, but Lance starts to wonder if he’s been pranked and this is just an ordinary mouse after all. He continues to talk anyway, because it’s better than silence.

“I bet it’s got some nice benefits. Lots of travel opportunities, get to meet cool people. Fancy medical care and even dental insurance. Wish I had dental. Gotta keep these pearly whites shiny and healthy for all the pretty people, you know.

“You ever get to hang with the princess? Legit space royalty. That’s pretty cool, man. And the paladins, real life superheroes! Straight out of some kid’s cartoon. Or are they too busy to talk to the underlings? That’d be a bummer. But at least you get to see them in action, saving people and spreading peace across the universe and all that.

“There’s a job I wouldn’t mind doing. I could really do something important, you know? Feel like I matter, like the universe is better off for me having lived in it. When I joined the Garrison I thought -”

Lance cuts off, staring at his feet with a frown for a long moment before looking back to the mouse. Still watching him. He laughs.

“Eh, what’s a fighter pilot from Earth worth, anyway? We’re not even gonna have ships that can leave the solar system for another five or ten years. Don’t have the resources for tech to travel to the front lines. We’re just a backwater farm planet in this war, so I might as well do my part and deliver food to the people doing the real hard work.”

Space Mouse flees to the floor as the last container is lifted and moved. Lance is almost done here.

“You’re a good listener, my furry friend. Wish I could stay longer to chat. To be honest, wish I could stay longer and take a look around. I get the chance to see a real life alien spaceship, a castle no less -- _The_ Castle of Lions but never leave the hangar. What a letdown.”

He sighs. The mouse starts to chitter loudly, running up to his boot before running a few feet away and back again. It’s honestly kind of weird and unnerving. Why is it freaking out? Did Lance do something wrong? It takes a few more repetitions for him to get it.

“Do you… want me to follow you?” Lance asks, and the mouse stops running to _nod_ at him. He looks around the otherwise abandoned hangar and laughs, throwing his arms up. “Sure, why not. I might get court martialed or shot, but hey, let’s do this. Lead the way, Lassie.”

Thoroughly bemused, Lance follows the alien mouse out of the hangar and through the corridors of an alien spaceship. Too invested to waste the opportunity worrying, he takes a good look around. Very sleek and shiny and futuristic, despite its rumored age. Throw in some lens flares and this could be a movie set. Very little in the way of decor, and surprisingly no people. Lance would have thought a ship this size would have more staff running around, or maybe a better security system to detect strangers wandering inside.

An elevator ride, a little more walking and they reach their destination. It’s another hangar, but _this_ one… Lance gasps, frozen in the doorway.

“The Blue Lion,” he whispers.

 _This_ hangar contains a giant robot in the shape of a lion, piloted by one of the defenders of the universe, and it is one fifth of Voltron.

The mouse continues on, approaching the spherical barrier that surrounds the lion. Lance follows slowly, looking up and up and up. His path veers side to side a bit and yup, its yellow eyes follow him. He stops just in front of the barrier and takes a moment to simply admire the machine.

“Wow,” he says, “You’re beautiful.” And there’s a rumbling tickle in the back of his mind that Lance dismisses as suppressed hysteria. “You know, you’ve frustrated a lot of smart Earth people just by existing. No one can figure out how you were made or how you work. Anyone who’s gotten to take a look at you is hushed up and details are like, super top secret.”

Lance sighs and takes a seat of the floor, hoping to spend a while simply basking in the lion’s presence.

“But I don’t much care about all that, I’d rather get to know your controls.” His face stretches into a smarmy grin. “I’d give up _all_ the space babes to spend some time inside _that_ cockpit.”

Space Mouse squeaks and presses a paw up against the barrier, giving Lance a look he can’t interpret. The micro-expressions of rodents are not something he’s studied. But he starts to reach a hand toward the semi-opaque barrier until he hears the muffled footsteps and voices of approaching people through the door.

Lance snatches his hand back and scrambles to his feet.

“Shit,” he whispers, looking around. “Shit, shit, shit.”

There’s a large tunnel leading out of the hangar to one side and he darts in that direction.

“Sorry, Blue, gotta scram!”

But the mouse doesn’t follow. Lance has no idea how to get back to his ship and his tour guide – his excuse for wandering – is not following. He stops, takes a few steps back, and jogs anxiously in place.

“C’mon, Space Mouse!” he whisper-yells. “Please! We need to go!”

The stupid rodent goes nowhere, and Lance swears that its furry little face is smug.

“Ugh!”

Lance tries to grab the mouse and run with it, but the bastard dodges. And so when two people enter the Blue Lion’s hangar soon after, he is bent over chasing a colorful alien mouse in circles.

As quickly as possible Lance snaps to attention and salutes his greatly-superior superior, shouting, “Sir!”

The pair who entered, a Major General and the Space Princess herself (oh god, oh shit), are still with shock. Lance is still with fear, and meanwhile the Space Mouse happily runs up to the princess like a goddamned traitor. Their friendship is _so_ done.

“Lieutenant,” the general growls, “I will give you one opportunity to explain yourself.”

“I was delivering cargo, sir,” Lance said firmly, in a pitch several octaves too high to be normal. “And the mouse wanted me to follow it here. So I did. Sir.”

The princess bends down to pick up the traitor mouse and listens to its assorted squeaks with a thoughtful frown.

“You followed the mouse,” the Major General says flatly, and Lance nods.

“Yes, sir.”

“You -”

“It is quite all right, General,” the princess says, and her beautiful voice and forgiving words make Lance’s eyes tear up. “He is telling the truth.”

“Your Highness,” the man says more graciously, “It may be true. But it does not excuse a Garrison officer from - ”

“The mice on this ship are an extension of my own quintessence, General,” she interrupts. “And I consider any action of theirs as having equal authority. Now, Earthling,” the princess turns to Lance, “What is your name?”

“Second Lieutenant Lance McClain of the Galaxy Garrison, Princess,” he says, still holding his salute.

“Lieutenant McClain,” she says. “Would you please touch the barrier around the Blue Lion?”

Lance lets out an involuntary, “Um.” He eyes the general, receives a grimace, looks back at the princess and receives an encouraging smile. “Yes, Princess.” He slowly relaxes his stance and take a step back towards Blue. Neither stop him, so Lance approaches the barrier and lifts a shaky hand.

The moment his palm touches its gelatinous surface, the barrier sparkles and retracts. Suddenly his brain is quivering with the presence of something _other_ and Lance can clearly picture Blue and the other lions joining to form Voltron.

“Whoa.”

He stands stunned as the lion shifts to lower its head and the mouth opens to unfold a ramp leading inside. Lance can’t help but laugh with giddy joy and turns to the princess with a happy, “Did you _see_ that!?”

“Excellent,” the princess says, “Most convenient. It appears we won’t have to assemble candidates after all, General.”

“I’m certain we have more suitable candidates to offer,” the man grumbles, “With more experience and appropriate training.”

“And the Blue Lion would accept none of them.” The princess’s smile had an edge now, reavealing more teeth. “I’m not certain you understand how rare compatibility is. Luckily for the universe, the lions and their pilots are frequently drawn to each other. I trust you will make whatever arrangements are necessary for Lieutenant McClain to join us? I would like to depart within the next few days.”

“Of course. That won’t be a problem, Your Highness,” the general smiles a strained little smile that universally translates to ‘I’d tell you to fuck off if I could.’

Lance is feeling thoroughly dazed. Did the princess just suggest - ? Time to subtly steer the conversation towards clarifying...

“What’s going on!?” he screeches with great dignity. “Um, Princess? Sir?”

“Oh, yes." Princess Allura turns to him with a kinder smile. “Congratulations, Lieutenant McClain. You are the new Blue Paladin of Voltron.”

* * *

The next few days pass in a blur.

Lance receives orders of deployment to the Castle of Lions. He calls his family to tell them he’s leaving Earth – leaving the _galaxy_ even – to become a pilot of Voltron. _Voltron!_ He takes promotional photos and grants an interview to the Garrison Times. He signs lots of paperwork and his mind boggles at his new pay grade and the size of his hazard bonus. He receives some alien-looking communications tech and instructions on how to use it. He’s given a tablet with a daunting collection of classified data, told it’s a handbook for paladins and to study it carefully. He gets a tour of the castleship and an introduction to its staff. He’s poked and prodded and scanned by the castle’s equivalent of a doctor. In his spare time, he questions his reality.

Needless to say he doesn’t get a lot of sleep.

The day they’re all set to launch, Lance arrives at the Castle of Lions with a duffle bag of belongings and a manic grin. He’s met at the entrance by Coran, the eccentric man with a mustache who he’s decided is some sort of chief administrator and all around go-to guy for the princess.

“Lance, my friend!” The alien shouts, “Do you feel prepared to explore and defend the universe as a paladin of Voltron?”

“Yes, sir,” Lance replies, in direct opposition to his true feelings.

“None of this ‘sir’ business, I insist! We’re not so formal here at the Castle of Lions. ‘Coran’ will do just fine.”

“Awesome,” Lance says, and drops about five of the five hundred pounds of tension weighing down his shoulders right now. He _is_ eagerly anticipating a lack of stuffy conversations. “Glad to hear it.”

“Now I understand you’ve had a tour of the castle,” Coran says with a twirl of his glorious ‘stache, “But I don’t believe you’ve met your team. I’m sure the other paladins are all eager to see who the Blue Lion chose!”

“That sounds…” Terrifying. Lance tries to muster up some enthusiasm and chokes out, “great.”

“This way, my boy!”

Lance trails Coran through the castle with a tight grip on the strap of his Garrison-issued duffle. He can almost sort of follow their path and compare it to his rough mental map of the ginormous ship to know where they are. They end up just outside one of the recreation rooms near the bridge.

Coran stands in the doorway and shouts, “Attention, all! I bring to you… the Blue Paladin, Lance!”

He steps aside, and now that the Altean is no longer blocking Lance’s view he can see that there are four others occupying the room. The Paladins of _Voltron,_ holy crap!

“Uh…” Lance lifts one hand and finger waves while pasting on a wide, practiced smile. “Hi, team!”

A man stands from the couch and Lance tries to spot the alien features before recognizing that he’s actually human, that he’s _Takashi Shirogane_ and Lance is about to speak to a freaking _legend!_ His hero! Holy crap.

“It’s great to meet you, Lance,” Shirogane says, smiling and offering a hand to shake. “I’m Shiro. It’ll be nice to have someone around who understands my references to Earth culture.”

Lance can barely take in that Shiroga- _Shiro_ \- is speaking to him, that he sounds so genuine and kind as well as being heroic and ridiculously good looking. His brain overloading, he stares at the offered hand for way too long to be polite – oh, cool, it’s metal – before taking it in his own to shake enthusiastically.

“I bet!” Lance says. “You’ve been away from home for a long time, huh? Must be good to get back.”

“...Yes, it is,” Shiro says simply, his smile now tinged with something sadder. Regret?

Before Lance can change the subject to something more cheerful, they’re approached by another paladin. And this guy – is he a guy? Looks like it by human standards but who knows really – is _big._ And also looks like he’s made of rocks. That’s pretty cool. What must his skincare routine be like?

“I’m Hunk,” rock-guy says, and when that sinks in Lance has to laugh and say,

“Yeah you are!”

Shiro chuckles, and Lance beams. He made Shiro laugh! Hunk doesn’t get it, but that’s okay.

“I heard you snuck into the castle to find Blue,” Hunk continues, and Lance almost chokes. What!? “That’s really brave, I think I would have puked when Allura found me.”

“That, uh,” Lance starts, “That’s not quite what -”

“Quit standing around and sit down, will you?” A voice calls out from the couch. “Don’t make him hover at the door.”

“She’s right, come sit Lance,” Shiro says, and beckons for him to join them.

“I think you have this well in hand,” Coran says from the door. “So long for now, paladins, I must be off to assist with our launch!”

“Thanks, Coran,” Lance calls out as he leaves, among a chorus of various “see you”s and “goodbye”s.

Lance sits on the oddly angular couch that is nonetheless surprisingly comfortable, sets down his bag, and looks at the alien who spoke up. She’s wearing glasses, has a bald pointy head and some seriously cool looking eyebrows.

“I’m Pidge,” she says, barely looking up from her tablet to acknowledge him before going right back to whatever she’s doing. “It’s a pleasure, etcetera, but I don’t have time to chat. This test won’t calibrate itself, you know.”

“Sure, yeah, I get it,” Lance says, but doesn’t really. Technology isn’t so much his thing. He turns to the last paladin in the room and double takes at the sight of purple skin and yellow eyes.

Now, there aren’t that many videos or images available on Earth of the paladins or aliens in general close up, but it’s hard to mistake a member of the race on the opposite side of the war. The ones who rule most of the universe – the Galra.

One of the paladins of Voltron is Galra. Huh. It takes a second for Lance to adjust to the idea but hey, an evil empire is obviously gonna have some opposition even among the ruling species. It’s great to have someone who might be more familiar with the enemy on their team.

Lance decides to ignore the guy’s closed off body language that just screams “leave me alone.” Maybe he’s just shy. Lance draws his attention with a wave and says cheerfully, “Hey, man! The name’s Lance, and you are?”

Somehow, impossibly, the scowl on the Galra’s face gets even scowlier. He glares from underneath his long bangs and says, “Not here to make friends. Do your job and stay out of my way.”

Wow. And after _that_ delightful introduction, the guy promptly stands up to stalk out of the room. What a dick.

Shiro sighs and stands as well, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Lance,” he says. “I’ll talk to him. He’s not usually _quite_ so…” he trails off and doesn’t finish, shaking his head and following after the Galra.

Lance stares after him, a bit bummed out. This is his _team._ These are the people he has to defend the universe with, and one of them is a giant asshole who already hates him. Well, shit.

“That was awkward,” Lance says, turning back to the remaining two paladins in time to see Pidge shrug carelessly. Hunk wrings his hands with a grimace.

“That’s, uh, Keith,” Hunk says. “He’s not _nice,_ exactly, but he really isn’t usually that… rude.” He shakes his head. “I just think it hits him hard, you know? He’s been here since the beginning, with Shiro and Allura and Coran, and after watching Thurm… well...”

“She died,” Pidge says, still messing with her tablet. Lance might have thought she was unaffected by the subject but her grip on the device is tighter than before and she's speaking curtly. “It wasn’t quick.”

“Oh,” Lance says softly, closing his eyes. It’s easy to forget from Earth, far from the front lines, that there really is a _war_ going on out there. With battle and blood and death. “And Thurm was…?”

Family? A lover?

“The Blue Paladin,” Hunk says, drooping. “It wasn’t even that long ago, really, but the Blue Lion needs a pilot, so…”

“Here I am,” Lance says, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry. Wow. That’s awful. Is that, uh… have there been other paladins who died?”

“Aside from the originals ten thousand years ago? Two,” Pidge says. “Allin and Jinenka. Green and another Blue.”

Well that doesn’t sound like great odds on staying alive through the war. It hasn’t been very long since Shiro disappeared on a mission for the Garrison and returned to Earth with Voltron requesting aid. To have three paladins die in as many years? Yeah… not great odds.

It hits Lance, suddenly, that he probably isn’t coming home. That he’s been drafted to fight in a war far from home and will probably never see his family again. Will never swim at Varadero Beach or eat his mom’s garlic knots. His short future will be filled with violence and then...

“Oh,” he says again, at a rare loss for words. How can he share these thoughts with strangers, strangers who have _lived_ this war as their reality for years. His concerns seem naive. Of course he could die. There is no war without casualties, and the Paladins of Voltron are at the head of almost every military effort in the rebellion against the Galra Empire.

“Would you like a hug?” Hunk says quietly, opening his arms. “You look like you could use a hug. _I_ want a hug. I don’t like thinking about it either.”

And despite Hunk’s arms looking like the least comfortable place in the room, the idea is so welcome that Lance actually tears up in gratitude.

“A hug sounds great, big guy,” Lance says, sniffling, and slides across the couch into Hunk’s embrace.

It turns out Hunk is a _great_ hugger, actually, despite his rocky exterior. His hugs are warm and tight without being suffocating. The hug lingers until really it’s just cuddling in all but name. Lance can’t bring himself to pull away. It’s not that awkward to cuddle with someone you just met, is it?

“Thanks, man,” Lance says, blinking away his tears and still holding on tight. “Hey Pidge, you want in on this? It’s nice.”

“No thanks,” Pidge says. “I’ll stick with distraction over physical comfort for now.”

“Okay, your loss,” Lance says, and still doesn’t let go. Hunk pats him gently on the back. “But, uh, speaking of distractions. There’s stuff to do in this castle that isn’t just, like, war-related, right? Something fun?”

This, of all things, is what gets Pidge to lower her tablet. She meets his eyes and her smile is positively _devious._ Oh. Okay. He and Pidge, Lance thinks, are going to get along just fine.

* * *

Months later Lance will look back on his introduction to the other paladins and wish he had done things differently.

He could have told Shiro how much he admires him, how all of Earth is cheering for him and wants to see him come home for good. He might have told Hunk about his mom’s garlic knots and helped him bake some alien knock-offs that much sooner. He should have pulled Pidge into that hug anyway, because even if she thinks she doesn’t need the comfort she really does. And Keith…

Well. There’s nothing he could have done to make Keith like him then. Keith wasn’t ready to be his friend – grieving and unwilling to let another person close only to risk losing them. But Lance could have been more understanding, more patient. It would have saved them both a _lot_ of trouble and heartache.

But he can’t change the past, and really... he doesn’t need to. He’s fighting a war and his daily life is full of battle and blood. But he has the best team he could ask for fighting by his side, and the best of friends in their quiet moments. So far, his luck has held. There is a tomorrow, and he has hope that one of these days… tomorrow will mean going home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry to say this is all I'm going to write for this universe. I just can't pull of an epic length multi-chapter fic, but if anyone else wants to expand or adapt on this one shot, go for it! I'd love to see it. :) Thanks for reading.


End file.
